Smooth Talker
by xkaiistarx
Summary: A pickup line should most definitely not be a way to show an esteemed author your appreciation. Norway, Vietnam. NorViet. Slice of Life Human AU.


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Lukas looks up from the laptop screen when he hears a soft cough by his table, momentarily distracted as the inky lines of monochrome paragraphs he was working on blur into an ineligible mess. The clattering drone of the quaint coffeeshop amplifies in volume as his concentration snaps, the scent of coffee beans and melted sugar sharp in the cool air.

The person clears his throat again, and he abandons his manuscript in favour of meeting them in the eye. Blank indigoes take in the woman that stand in front of him from beneath rimmed glasses, noting foremost the hands that clutch the ends of her woolly jacket tightly; the very gesture he had just touched upon on his script.

He would have pondered at the coincidence had he not recognised her as an occupant of the table sneaking glances at him for the past hour.

It was about time. He had been expecting one of them to come over sooner or later, having heard the muffled whispers and laughter between the four males and two females that had concerned more than his (in their words) good looks.

It had been a long time since someone had recognised him or mentioned his book on the streets.

"...Hello."

The soft-spoken voice takes him by surprise, sounding much more firm than he had expected it to be. She sounded hesitant, almost apprehensive as she stares at the edge of the table and swallows, different from the usual flustered eagerness that overwhelmed women when they approached. This borderlines on pure awkwardness, and he finds himself watching her fingers twist the wool in a rhythmically erratic pattern.

"Hello. Can I help you?" He glimpses her friends watching from the other end of the coffeeshop, clearly trying to listen in, and feels a tinge of sympathy for the stranger.

"You, you are the author of _Allotheism_ , aren't you? The novel about the boy who goes searching for strange gods."

"Yes, I am." Lukas cannot keep the pleased curl of his lips at the acknowledgement. The woman smiles, easing slightly. Gold eyes glint sharply in the yellow lighting of the coffeeshop, bright like gems as she parts her dry mouth to speak again.

"She... that is, we, I am a huge fan of your work." Her hands squeeze tighter at her blunders, the pads of her fingers turning pasty. He pretends to not notice when she throws a glare back to the table, hearing the prominent giggle of the other female as he averts his gaze. "I'm sorry. I'm not very good at this."

"It's alright." He says, expression somehow able to come across as awaiting under his schooled features. "Thank you. I hope you enjoyed it."

"I did."

An uneasy silence settles over the both of them, what meagre attempt at conversation swallowed up by chimes of the cafe's door. Lukas takes this opportunity to study the stranger, lifting his gaze from her fingers to her face; russet hair tied into a loose-hanging ponytail, a slender jaw line, eyes that shone liquid gold whenever the light catches her irises. She was pretty, in a subtle, small, elegant sort of way.

"You know, I'm a writer too." The apprehensive tone was back in her voice as she fidgets.

"Oh?" He raises an eyebrow, mouth twitching as he takes the bait. "What type of book are you writing?"

"A phonebook. Can I have your number?"

A silence that was too long spans between the both of them as Lukas blinks in stunned surprise. The stranger presses her lips tightly together, glancing back at the horde of positively sniggering adults, frowning slightly before she dips her head at him.

"Sorry." Another flick of her eyes as her fingers dug into her jacket.

Amusement brims as his surprise fades, and he finds himself chuckling, a genuine sound unforced by the need of social requirements. His fingers slip the reading glasses off his face, placing them neatly on the table before regarding the stranger with something akin to newfound interest.

"You need an address to go along with that?"

Now it is her turn to be surprised. "That won't be necessary." Her voice comes out a bit too stiff to be considered a smooth return, and he hides his smile as she flushes in mortification, clearly aware of it.

"If you insist." He hopes his accent hadn't thicken too much.

He scribbles his number on the receipt of his coffee before holding the piece of paper out to her. The stranger wavers for only a moment, disbelief still evident as her fingers release their grip on soft wool to take it. Lukas pulls back before she could touch it, watching the surprise in her eyes dull to an expected glint, her deduction a foregone conclusion.

"An exchange would only be fair," he says before she can make to speak. "You know my name as well, it's only right that I know yours."

"That's not..." She gestures to the table behind her, features torn at the laughter of the other woman amid the hush whispers of the men. "She's interes-... I'm not the person you want."

"On the contrary, I am certain I know what I want. And I want the number of the person standing in front of me."

He sees the smallest hint of a wan smile on the stranger's lips before she acquiesces, tearing the other half of the receipt for her to write down her particulars. Curious eyes gaze at the penned letters and numbers, admiring the neatness of her handwriting.

"You don't strike me as a very forward man, Mr...?"

"Lukas is fine." He runs her name silently over his tongue. "You don't peg me as such a forward woman either, Lien." Lien, it had a nice ring to it.

"I'm not, at least to strangers."

"I assumed likewise."

Lien makes a soft noise of amusement as she holds the torn receipt close. Her fingers do not clutch her woollen jacket as tightly as before. A man hollers her name from the other end of the coffeeshop, the call quickly swallowed up by the dragging of chairs and clanging of pans from within the kitchen. She looks back, giving her indication before turning to give him an apologetic dip of her head.

He brushes it away, smile fading into a polite line as she backs away.

"I will see you?" Gold eyes flicker softly, catching watchful indigoes as the man smirks.

"Yes." Lukas takes pleasure from her inquiry and send-off, watching her uncertain motions morph back into ease as she returns to her friends, chuckling silently as her back turns rigid from their eager bombardments of curiosity.

He turns his gaze away from the entrance only after she leaves and the tinkering chime of the doorbell fades into nothing more than a muted lingering of sound, slipping on his glasses as he returns to his manuscript. The typed letters gain back clarity as he hovers, musing before continuing with the pressing of keyboard.

An odd encounter she was indeed, having broke his routine of normalcy. Even as the day ends and he packs to leave the coffeeshop, his mind drifts back to slender fingers playing with wool, and he finds himself looking forward to seeing her again.

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* * *

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The sun had just begin to wane as Lukas makes his way leisurely through the secluded paths of the town park. His mind was far from reality, deep in contemplation as he pondered the new plot device he had half a mind to chuck into his newest story to wrap the conclusion up promptly. The absence of firmness beneath his loafers and the sudden crunching of grass brings him out of his daze, and he blinks in surprise as he finds the path missing.

A pair of sparrows flutter around the flower hedges around him, flitting closer when he doesn't move. With merry twittering they bullet past him into the trees above, bringing with them a gush of wind. A breeze blows, chilly with the coming of autumn. Lukas turns around to head back to the concrete path, eyes absentmindedly taking a view of his surroundings as he tugs at his scarf.

The sight of a woolly sweater catches his attention immediately, and he snaps back, blinking in surprise. There was a figure in the distance, watching a flock of pigeons filtering for breadcrumbs on the ground. He squints as he walks closer, recognising its colour and the soft russet hair bounded loosely with a hair tie pooling over one shoulder.

Of all the coincidences...

It had been more than a week since the encounter, and he had made no attempts to contact the stranger at all. Half of it had been busyness on his part; it had took him three days to finish a portion of the manuscript to finally warrant a breather to himself. The other half though, he admit, had been hesitance. The pickup line had been an obvious dare from her friends, he had no reason to believe she would have actually wanted his number, even as a fan.

He does not find himself hesitating this time, reaching for his phone and pressing the button for her contact. If fate would have it, perhaps he should start keeping his promises better.

Soften indigoes watch with bated breath as the figure drops her gaze to pick at her pocket as his phone hums a waiting signal. She presses something to her ear just as the signal connects, and Lukas almost grins when he hears her soft voice speaking from the end of the line.

"Hello?"

"Good evening Lien, I hope you still remember the man whom you told a pickup line to last week." There was no fighting the amusement from his voice as he walks towards her.

"Lukas?" The figure gives a start, arm wrapping round her stomach as she moves away from the wandering pigeons.

"I was wondering how your phone book was coming along."

"Pardon?" Confusion and embarrassment laces her voice as she clutches the phone.

A soft breath of laughter. "Turn around."

She does, breath hitching over the line when she sees him. Silently Lukas closes the connection, lowering his phone as he approaches. "Hello." He says when he stops at a respectable distance.

"Hello." Lien replies, mustering a polite curve of her lips. "You didn't call." She clamps her hand over her mouth instantly, annoyance flashing over her eyes over her own remark. "Not that you should have. But I didn't, I thought maybe I might have been intruding."

"I apologise." A flicker of uncertainty courses through him as he blinks at her. With sudden clarity he realises he is nervous. "I shouldn't have kept you waiting. Would you mind me making it up to you? Some coffee?" He glances at the sinking sun, watching golden clouds glow orange and pink in the darkening indigo sky. "Perhaps dinner?"

"...Don't you, don't you think you are getting ahead of yourself?" Her muffled voice was breathless, face painted with the faintest of blushes.

"It's the fastest way to get to know each other, no?" He shrugs and tightens the scarf round his neck, heedless of the rising warmth he felt. "...I'm sorry."

"I don't mind." Her hand slips off from over her mouth.

"Are you sure?"

Lukas blinks with barely concealed relief when she nods, fiddling with the split ends of her jacket as she meets his gaze.

"Nothing too fancy please."

"No promises." His eyes glint almost playfully when she jerks back with her mouth parted in surprise, a trait he thinks he can come to find endearing in time. "I want to make a good first impression."

"You already have." Her ensuing smile was shy, causing him to smirk.

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* * *

A/N

Stress reliever drabble for exam season spiralled into this (I'm suffering-). Please enjoy this awkward first meeting fluff anyways! Inspiration came from the pickup line. It's a real smooth one too.

Allotheism is the belief in or worship of strange gods. A rare pretty word I found while browsing the dank depths of Internet. I find that its meaning is a topic Norway might find interest in, no? Speaking of which, I didn't really highlight what sort of book he wrote, apart of it being fantasy. It could even be part philosophical, which would then be interesting because it's been hinted that most, if not all, of Viet's group has read it lol. The Asians are a deep bunch. Her group of friends consists of the younger Asians. The other woman is Taiwan. The men are HK, South Korea, Thailand, and Macau.

I have been writing a lot of NorViet lately. Got to blame it on my strong muse heh.


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